Vogue wisely timed the release of this cover and photo shoot with the release of one of their 73 Questions videos with Reese. SYNERGY. I have popped it after the jump for you to watch, if you’re so inclined — her house is FANTASTIC, and conveniently currently for sale. My favorite part is the cameo by her Oscar, although I wish they hadn’t mentioned it at all. As for the cover: I’m not wholly convinced, but I LOVE the insides. I guess being beautiful on the inside is important.
Fug File: Fug The Cover
Someone in Fug Nation brought this to our attention by noting that Armani and Hudson look like their own wax figures.
This is true of Armani. Kate Hudson looks more like her own demon waxwork that failed quality control, and now lives in a vault someplace with nothing to do but fantasize about revenge arson and snack on spirit gum. It has been possessed by the spirit of the person who taught Jennifer Morrison about topknots, and had one really rough day last week when the 110-degree heat blew a fuse at Public Storage and the a/c went out, and damn, now she has to save up for a faceoplasty.
Contrast this beauty to that Ariana Grande nightmare from Marie Claire. There is something amazingly throwback about this — the cloud of hair, the brow, the minimalist makeup, the devastatingly pouty expression. It’s perfectly retro without being musty or dated. Really breathtaking.
This feels more like Maxim to me.
Granted, she’s probably wearing too much fabric for Maxim. But unless Golf takes a lad-mag turn, I can’t imagine where else BUT Maxim you’d actually expect to see a pose I can only describe as, “Hey there, Big Boy, am I gripping your driver or your iron?” Especially when you couple it with an embarrassingly reductive cover line that I’m either sad she uttered, or was taken weirdly out of context. It certainly is a strange choice for Cosmopolitan. Maybe incorporating a putter is “your new secret weapon for hotter sex,” or there’s an insane bedroom maneuver called The Bunker Pitch, or Hooking It Out Of The Deep Rough, or perhaps your five-second stress buster is pretending to take a club to someone’s car. The trouble is, I’m probably not going to open the magazine to find out, because it’s SO discordant that unless the rest of the Internet tells me that Pantomime Squat Golf is going to burn a thousand calories in ten minutes, I’m not terribly compelled.
I think we can all agree this cover is the best-worst thing that’s ever happened. Someone wrote — it might have been Tennis magazine — that it looks like it was shot by Wes Anderson, and that’s so apt that I wish I had thought of it first. But honestly, my most important question is: Did they just Photoshop his head onto a model’s body, or did they ACTUALLY sincerely make Roger Federer kick up a jaunty leg while dressed as the villain in a tennis musical?
[Photos: Town & Country]